


I drowned a long time ago (drunk walk home)

by MOONLITDIANE



Series: serial killer au [sakusa kiyoomi x Atsumu Miya] [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adult Content, Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Brutal Murder, Depressed Miya Atsumu, Emotional Manipulation, Farmer Kita Shinsuke, Gen, Haikyuu - Freeform, Inspired by a Mitski Song, Jealous Sakusa Kiyoomi, M/M, MSBY, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Minor Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, Murder, Oblivious Miya Atsumu, POV Sakusa Kiyoomi, Past Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Pining Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Protective Sakusa Kiyoomi, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sad Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi is Bad at Feelings, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, Song: Drunk Walk Home (Mitski), Stalking, Suggestive Themes, Threats of Violence, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, Violent Thoughts, Yandere, Yandere Sakusa Kiyoomi, psychopath sakusa kiyoomi, serial killer sakusa kiyoomi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MOONLITDIANE/pseuds/MOONLITDIANE
Summary: [11:05 PM]With alcohol running through his veins and hate in his mind, Sakusa breathed in the salty ocean air, letting the oxygen plant itself in his lungs. But it did nothing to quell his toxic thoughts. It failed to calm the raging sea in him.This was the point of no return for Sakusa Kiyoomi.Finally giving in, he dropped to sit on the curb, a clear view of the night sky reflecting off the dark ocean waters, one chuckled stumbled out his mouth, then another, and then a couple more—until he was full on laughing like a mad man without any humor, he was laughing like his whole life was the joke, like he was the joke. All alone, clothes ruined, tears running down his face, lips dry and chapped. He was a mess. He was a glass bottle hanging by a thread and the last thing keeping him above water was gone and he dropped to the floor with the loudest silent crash. He was shards on the concrete floor, one wrong move and you’d get cut by his edges.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: serial killer au [sakusa kiyoomi x Atsumu Miya] [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158020
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Haikyuu Writer Jukebox Round One - Mitski





	I drowned a long time ago (drunk walk home)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my entry for Haikyuu Jukebox and I got the song Drunk Walk Home by Mitski. This was originally supposed to be a character study of Kenma and his love/hate relationship with capitalism but...this is where we ended up with. This is a pilot fic (I think) for my serial killer au.
> 
> Major trigger warnings for murder, extreme violence, suicide, manipulation, and suggestive content.

The sea, Sakusa claimed, was his one true home.

So many nights spent laid on the shores, staring up at the dark inky night sky, salt water retreating before crashing onto his body over and over again. It was like he was in a trance, stuck in his own personal limbo.

He laid there until his fingers and toes went prude, he laid there until his eyes and nose were burning, he laid there until the sun was peeking across the horizon. He laid there until there was nothing, until there was a blank, empty space where his heart was supposed to be.

He laid there until there was nothing in his ribcage.

Those nights were his breaks from his monotonous, boring, exhausting life. A life that gave nothing but bullshit after overlapping bullshit. He was getting so so tired and every time he went back to that exact same beach, he inched just a little closer to the sea, every visit, he was an inch or two closer to drowning himself. Waiting for the day the sea could finally claim him once more.

Sighing through his nose with his eyes closed tightly, Sakusa leaned back against the velvet cushions of the night club. The loud music with a bass too strong for his liking almost felt like it was beating his brain out of his skull.

No matter how many drinks he consumes or people he fucks, there will always be that empty void in his chest. An empty shell of a person he never was and never will be, as though he was born into this world with no rhyme or reason, no soul or heart to feel anything. The strings connecting him to humanity were cut even before his conception.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Omi?” A familiar deep voice cut through Kiyoomi’s thoughts, looking over to his side to watch Atsumu slide into the lounger next to him, a half finished glass of…something in his right hand. Must’ve been hard liquor by the way its smell almost made Kiyoomi gag on the spot.

“I’m trying to,” the wing spiker shrugged, letting his head loll back to rest onto the backrest of the lounger, dark inky eyes staring at nothing in particular, finding the red and purple neon lights of the club more interesting than the music or the people begging for his attention. Bringing one hand up to rub at the side of his neck, when he dragged it back down to his lap, he ‘accidentally’ grabbed the fabric of his champagne satin button up, exposing a substantial amount of his bare chest to his team mate.

Now, just because Sakusa Kiyoomi was a diagnosed psychopath doesn’t mean he wasn’t capable of love—or whatever his version of love is. _“Normal”_ people would call it a sick obsession but Kiyoomi liked the term _devotion_ better. That’s right, he was just devoted to keeping their special bond alive, the only bond he’s ever made in his life, right?

“Don’t be like that Omi,” Atsumu bumped their shoulders together.

Sakusa only rolled his eyes, letting himself drink in Atsumu’s figure sitting just a hair’s length away from him. He was such a beautiful human being, Kiyoomi had to admit, and when he fixed his bleached hair? He could beat the goddess of beauty if he wanted to with just how ethereal he looked. 

He was a tall drink and God, was Sakusa Kiyoomi thirsty. 

“What exactly is your intention with approaching me, Miya?”

“How could you think so low of me, Omi?” Atsumu placed a hand over his chest, faux offense painted on his face. With a pointed look at the setter, he eventually caved in.

“I wanted to talk to you about our agreement,”

What agreement? Does he mean the agreement that states in big bold letters **WE FUCK EACH OTHER?** The one with _there are no strings attached_ printed in fine print?

“What about it?” Sakusa licked the bottom of his lips, eyebrows slightly pushed together.

“I think,” Atsumu hesitated for a moment, “We can officially stop it now.”

“Oh?” the ace tilted his head back, ignoring the weird feeling in his stomach at those words.

“Yeah,” Atsumu looked down to his lap, holding back a small smile as he continued to talk, “It’s Kita and you know I’ve liked him for so long,”

Of course, Kiyoomi knew, he knew just a little too well. He knew from all those late night conversations he had with Atsumu, he knew from all those _secret_ checkups he did on Atsumu’s apartment, walking through each room with steps as silent as a cat hunting for its prey. He knew from all the pictures of Atsumu and Kita he could find, all those pictures he threw away one by one. He knew from the messages on Atsumu’s phones, the ones he deleted once Atsumu’s head was turned for a few seconds. He knew very well.

“And—and the other day he actually asked me out on a date and it’s—”

“Well, congrats, Atsumu, I guess,” Sakusa cut him off, forcing his lips to curl upwards and yet his eyes quickly found itself back onto the ceiling. Maybe to distract himself, maybe to stop tears of anger from flowing down his face, or maybe both?

“Thanks for understanding, Omi! See you later!” Not that Atsumu Miya really cared about his feelings and that needed to change. 

Kiyoomi couldn’t remember much after that, from what little he could grasp at was the amount of wine he consumed, the amount of people he kissed on the dance floor, and the amount of times he found himself yearning for Atsumu once again.

He didn’t know how long the night was either but all he knew it was probably 5 AM and his feet were probably bleeding from walking through rough roads, trying to get to the beach without stumbling on his own two feet. He was dizzy, felt like throwing up, and the world was spinning, a heavy hungover was more than likely waiting for him tomorrow but he couldn’t care less.

With alcohol running through his veins and hate in his mind, Sakusa breathed in the salty ocean air, letting the oxygen plant itself in his lungs. But it did nothing to quell his toxic thoughts. It failed to calm the raging sea in him. 

This was the point of no return for Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Finally giving in, he dropped to sit on the curb, a clear view of the night sky reflecting off the dark ocean waters, one chuckled stumbled out his mouth, then another, and then a couple more—until he was full on laughing like a mad man without any humor, he was laughing like his whole life was the joke, like he was the joke. All alone, clothes ruined, tears running down his face, lips dry and chapped. He was a mess. He was a glass bottle hanging by a thread and the last thing keeping him above water was gone and he dropped to the floor with the loudest silent crash. He was shards on the concrete floor, one wrong move and you’d get cut by his edges. 

Was there any point a point anymore? He asked himself. If Atsumu Miya wasn’t there to grasp onto him as he dangled at the edge of a precipice, was there any reason to stay hanging? 

He dressed up pretty for that night, he wanted to be as pretty as the brightest stars in the sky, he wore uncomfortable shoes, styled his hair the way he knew Atsumu liked and yet, it still wasn’t enough to make him stay. He wasn’t the most love worthy person, but he was trying. He wasn’t the most affection or the most normal person, but he was _fucking_ trying.

Well, if he can’t convince Atsumu Miya to stay, maybe he just had to force him to.

_“Hello? Sakusa? What’s wrong? Why are you calling me at—”_

Kiyoomi wasn’t a fucking idiot, he was meticulous, he was obsessive of everything falling into place just how he planned it to the tittle. Kiyoomi wasn’t an idiot, he has studied way too many real crime cases, planned strangers’ deaths, dissected cold cases, analyzed how these people got away with their crimes so easily. Kiyoomi wasn’t an idiot, he was a monster in the making.

It took him a couple days but the plan was _perfect_. It was foolproof. It was infallible. It took him a couple days and in between those days, Kita and Atsumu had their first—and hopefully—only date and that only fueled Sakusa Kiyoomi more.

_“At 3 AM?”_

Kita’s voice was groggy, obviously shaken awake from his sleep by Kiyoomi’s sudden call.

“I’m—Kita, can you please come pick me up? I don’t—” Sakusa fake choked on his crocodile tears. 23 years of faking a personality, acting just came as easy as breathing for him.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, please pick me up. I’m at the beach right now and I might drown myself please,” He stood there, feet buried in the sand.

“Please don’t tell the others, it’s just—I don’t want them to worry or think less of me,” With one perfectly placed sob, he could already hear Shinsuke scrambling to get up from his bed.

With that one sentence, Sakusa already killed two birds with one stone; he had a reason for Kita to come to him without suspicion—he was a suicidal little heart who didn’t want his friends to see him like a mess, so why not call an acquaintance? And he just erased all possibility of Kita telling another soul where he was going and who he was with.

Normal people, Sakusa found, were fucking idiots.

_“Sakusa, stay where you are, okay?”_

“Please,”

Kiyoomi choked back a fake sob, though the empty smile on his face was anything but sad or remorseful. 

With a faint click sound, the call ended.

Then there was silence.

Nothing but the sound of the ocean crashing harshly onto the shore and Sakusa’s even breathing filled the air. The blunt knife he hid in his pockets almost burned—it burned to be sunk into hot flesh and coated with a sheen of wine colored liquid.

Drip, drip, _drip_.

Sakusa could almost hear it.

He could almost taste it.

The sand beneath his feet crunched as he walked slowly down the shore, hissing when the cold waters made contact with his skin. It was ice cold and it was _perfect_.

Kiyoomi could’ve started singing right then and there with how happy he was with his plan, how everything was falling into place.

Time was going far too slow, Kiyoomi thought, it was going too slow for his liking. His hands were shaking from impatience now as he stood waist deep in the sea. The clock was ticking in his head, silently counting the seconds until Kita’s appearance. He was mentally imagining every single one of Shinsuke’s moves, he imagined how he was running down the stairs, to his car, and what street he was turning to.

He could imagine the panicked look in his brown eyes or the way his hands were inching closer to his phone before pulling back, remembering his _“sobbing”_ to not tell the others.

God, people are so stupid. They are such fickle creatures.

Kiyoomi could hear voices of long past spirits whispering in his ears, shaming him, belittling him, and yet he only rolled his eyes in annoyance.

_“You are a monster!”_

As if he didn’t know that already.

_“Why do you want to hurt him?”_

Isn’t it already obvious?

_“If you hurt Kita, you’re hurting Atsumu!”_

Oh but that’s why Kiyoomi’s there, right? He’s there to be the pillow that catches Atsumu. He’s the shoulder to cry on. The one with the encouraging, loving words to remind him that _he still has Sakusa Kiyoomi to love._

There is no going back now and Kiyoomi hasn’t once thought of looking back. You shouldn’t ever regret doing something you only ever did for a happy ending, right? It wasn’t selfish of Sakusa to at least do something for himself for once.

Everyone always told him that love was sacrifice and it was almost like temporary madness—was this not love?

Was this not how they described the feeling of being in love with someone? Was this not how millions of writers said love was? Wasn’t it supposed to be like Icarus loving the sun? Wasn’t he supposed to be the Icarus and Atsumu the sun? That’s how it has always been, right? Then he’ll make sure it’ll always stay that way.

No matter how many bodies will be left in his wake, as long as he keeps the sunlight between his fingers, as long as he constantly flips the hourglass over and over again. As long as he keeps the chains wrapped around Atsumu Miya tight enough, he can keep him coming back for more.

Exactly 13 minutes and 7 seconds, that’s how long Kiyoomi predicted Shinsuke would take to get to him and again, he was right. His meticulous planning and stalking was paying off. Well, he wouldn’t call it stalking, he’d call it—becoming acquainted with someone in a quiet manner.

“Sakusa!” He heard the distressed voice call out to him a few yards behind him, loosely tied shoes pathetically running through the sand.

If you blinked, you would’ve missed the almost seamless transition of Kiyoomi’s vaguely entertained expression to a blank, soulless look, staring into the distance, trying to find the horizon where the sea meets the sky through the darkness.

“Sakusa, talk to me!” He was getting closer.

“Let’s go home, please!” His feet finally hit the water, slightly slowing down from the strong currents. 

“I don’t know what’s going on but I’ll take you home and I’ll listen to you even if it takes all ni—” cold shaking hands took hold of Sakusa’s arm.

In one swift move, Sakusa took out the kitchen knife in his pockets, forcing it onto Shinsuke’s hands, and holding him in a loose choke hold.

“What the fuck, Sakusa?” Shinsuke managed to sputter out, too panicked to use or even notice the blunt knife in his hold.

Kiyoomi hummed, a smile slowly stretching onto his face as he took his free hand and harshly grabbed onto Kita’s hands, forcing them to come together to hold the knife in two.

“Sakusa _please_!” He was getting desperate now, tears welling up in his eyes as the seriousness of the situation slowly sunk in. His brown eyes were wide in disbelief, body going stiff but his mouth was moving, pleading. 

“Sakusa please let’s talk about this, you don’t have to act out!” Kiyoomi glanced back into the distance, people usually took 20 minutes to recover from their fight or flight response so he wasn’t in any rush to dispose of Shinsuke Kita. Not yet. He had to enjoy this moment, he had to savor every detail—he wanted to imprint this very moment in his head forever, the way Kita was rigid in his hold, staring wide eyed at the almost glowing knife hovering above their bodies, and the tears threatening to fall. 

“All you had to do was stay away from Atsumu Miya,” Sakusa chuckled humorlessly, leaning his head back to stare at the starless sky, pitch black hair falling back. “That’s all you had to do and I wouldn’t have had to get my hands dirty but you pushed me to this, Kita,”

His choke hold on Kita tightened.

“You pushed me to this, how could you sleep comfortably knowing you’ve taken everything from me?” 

“Atsumu? Wha—you like Atsumu? Is that why you’re doing this?” Oh, he sounded so pitiful like that, voice confused.

Forcing Kita’s hands to move ever so slightly, Sakusa intentionally moved it in position where Kita could see his face reflecting off the shiny metal.

It was emotionless, his already dark eyes looked darker and emptier. There was nothing in his eyes, no emotion, no remorse, not even a hint of satisfaction with what he was about to do. Just a void of where a soul was supposed to be. The moonlight almost looked like it was avoiding him, there were no catch lights jumping off his irises. 

“I hope you fucking drown, Sakusa Kiyoomi,” Kita spat. Really? That was going to be his last words? Kiyoomi chuckled. He had drowned a long time ago, even before he knew what the sea looked like, even before he knew what hatred felt like, or what it was like to choke on your own words. He had drowned a long time ago and God had abandoned all hope in him. He had drowned in his own self hatred a long time ago, drowned in the confusing mess that was his self, cold water filled his lungs and still failed to make him feel something.

Moving the arm he was using to keep Shinsuke in a choke hold, Sakusa instead placed it over his mouth. His other hand that was forcing the bi-colored hair boy to hold the knife tightened, Kita now just noticed the surgical gloves Kiyoomi was wearing. 

Shinsuke didn’t know what else to say, he was just in a state of shock and confusion, fueled at the same time by pure anger and the utter feeling of betrayal. A cold chill ran down his spine when Kiyoomi leaned down to whisper in his ears.

“You won’t be the last,”

He definitely will not be the last. As long as there were bastards in this world who had the disgusting ability to gaze upon his Atsumu, there will always be bodies to dispose of. As long as he was alive, there will always be blood to spill.

“It was nice knowing you, Kita, let’s hope I won’t have to do this again in our next life,”

With all the force he can muster, Kiyoomi sunk the knife dead center in Shinsuke’s jugular notch, just below his throat. The knife made a quiet but sickening squelching noise once it hit his pale flesh, the dull edge refused to sink any deeper but with a good twist of his flexible wrist, Kiyoomi managed to slowly push it even deeper. Kita let out a disgusting noise that was what Sakusa could only describe as a half gasp, half suffocating, blood quickly pooling in his agape mouth. He couldn’t help but wiggle the knife around, hoping it worsened Kita’s already miserable disposition.

Dark red liquid jettisoned straight out of the plugged cut, coating Kiyoomi’s arms and dripping down Kita’s back that was pressed up against the volleyball player. With barely any reaction but a silent _‘tsk’_ , Kiyoomi counted down to 60 seconds in his head, slowly relaxing his grip on the frozen body.

_One_

It surprised Sakusa just how warm buckets and buckets of blood actually was, maybe it’s because he never really scraped his knees as a child or ever really injured himself for him to know the real properties of the bodily liquid. Nevertheless, it still fascinated him how truly mesmerizing it was to stare at the red just flowing down in one single continuous stream.

_Fifteen_

Just because he found it borderline aesthetically pleasing didn’t mean he absolutely detested the idea of washing it out of his clothes. Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn’t really fond of the idea of ordering a couple liters of hydrogen peroxide nor was he really excited of smelling like antiseptic either. It was good then, that he was wearing a dress shirt that he didn’t particularly care for. Sakusa didn’t expect for the air to smell so strongly of copper either, he could vaguely taste it.

_Thirty_

The blood dripped down the cut in Kita’s throat, coating his body and arms in a layer of his own ichor, evenly flowing to his back that was pressed up against his killer. Kiyoomi’s shirt was absolutely dyed red in a matter of seconds, you would’ve mistaken that he originally bought it in that dark shade of wine. Kiyoomi was almost tempted to lick up the skin of his victim, tempted to taste that coppery flavor on his tongue so that when he bit his own tongue hard enough to draw blood, his memories could bring him back to this night. 

_Forty-five_

Shinsuke’s flailing was quickly subsiding, the wriggling of his hands trying to break free from the guided suicide Sakusa held him in was easing up. The natural blush of his face and entire body disappeared, now a sad shade of pale blue. His last few pathetic gasps of air left his lips, the freezing cold temperatures caused by his lowering heart rate numbed out the pain. With one last final thrust of the knife, Kiyoomi had forced the entire blade of the knife through Kita’s neck, the sharp metal forcing its way between the vertebrae to cut through his spinal cord.

_Sixty_

Kita’s body went slack against him, the curly haired man didn’t hesitate to drop his lifeless corpse right into the dark waters, watching as the strong currents dragged him farther and farther from the shore, sinking even deeper into the sea bed. Even if Kiyoomi squinted his eyes, the usually crystal clear ocean would only reflect the starless night sky. Placing a hand on his shoulder to stretch it out, he slightly cringed at the wet surgical gloves covering his already saturated clothes with even more blood.

“That was fun,” Kiyoomi muttered to himself, but it’s so fucking messy. 

That was fun. For a moment, Sakusa Kiyoomi swore he felt alive. He finally felt the adrenaline running through his veins, something that volleyball barely even gave him anymore. To see the destruction of someone else caused by your own two hands? It fed the sleeping monster inside him, tamed the inevitable slaughtering of every breathing human in his vicinity. To hear someone beg for their life, knowing you were God even for just a moment—Sakusa Kiyoomi was a God toying with the power of life and death.

Walking backwards, he stared across the water, a psychotic grin found its way to his porcelain skin.

_“This isn’t love,”_ Kiyoomi’s head shot to the side, looking for the source of the voice but there was no one. Right, Kita’s fucking dead and now he was the newest voice in the circus that Kiyoomi called his mind. There were already too many demons inside him, too many voices arguing, too many temptations he had to suppress.

_“This isn’t love, Sakusa, you don’t love Atsumu like the way I did and you never will,”_ Not-Kita taunted.

Oh, he knew. He knew 100% this wasn’t love. Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn’t in love, he was _devoted_. Would miserable little love make you kill? No, love was for children. Devotion on the other hand, it made you kill, it made you crazy, insane. Devotion makes you do everything for him because as much as you want to see him happy, you want him to be yours even more. Who cares if it makes them sad or if you hurt them in one way or another? We all get hurt sometimes.

And so he walks home, not drunk on alcohol this time but high on hysteria. He walks home and this time he laughs freely, like the mad man he knew he was. He wasn’t laughing because his life was the joke, no, he was laughing because the world was the joke, no, he was laughing because the world was the joke. He was laughing and when he reaches the comfort of his apartment, four walls that bare witness to his absolute madness. He’ll wash away the evidence of a night he’ll never forget about, a night he’ll keep replaying in his head until he grows hungry once more. He’ll be okay with slowly licking the lollipop for now, licking until the plastic stem hits his tongue and then, then he can finally open up another pack.

Kiyoomi stares at the surgical gloves sitting on his sink, dripping a mixture of water and blood on his bathroom tiles. He was tempted to keep them, hide them in a nice little wooden box tucked away behind his closet but the dramatic germaphobe in him urged him otherwise. He’d rather be laying in bed at night, replying the way Kita was shaking and futile please falling from his lips, than having his entire apartment smell like rotting flesh and rust. He was content with always smelling like cleaning solutions and menthol ointments.

Cringing at the way his clothes clung to his body, dragging cruor through his back and arms, Kiyoomi threw his clothes in the sink to squeeze the blood out of it as much as possible before chucking it into trash. Killing was so satisfying but why did it have to be so fucking filthy? 

Breathing out a sigh of relief as the cold waters of his showers ran down his body, washing away the filth and exhaustion away from his muscular body, Sakusa once again caught himself smirking. A mad man, he knew he was. Those true crime documentaries never really described the high and the feeling of satisfaction of seeing the light behind someone’s eyes disappear, they never really mentioned just how fucking good it felt to kill someone.

And so when he steps out of that shower and back into _clean_ , comfortable clothes, and when he lays in bed, heart a little bit less than dead inside, he knows he will wake up in the morning with Atsumu banging on his door, disheveled and worried, maybe even tears in his eyes. And he’ll feign innocence, act like how he normally did, act like he wasn’t dreaming of Kita begging for his life over and over again last night.

“Omi—” Atsumu stuttered, hair messy, breathing heavily when Sakusa finally opened his doors, a bored look on his face. 

“Yes, Miya?”

“Have you seen Shinsuke? He hasn’t been answering his phone and his apartment is empty and I already called the police and—”

“Miya, I can’t understand what you’re trying to say,” Sakusa raised a brow, grabbing the setter by the elbow softly to drag him inside the house.

“Shinsuke’s _gone_ !” Sakusa almost broke character. _Almost_. He just didn’t like the sight of Atsumu being panicky and so…uncharacteristically restless. He liked Atsumu’s calm, cocky demeanor more. As cold, heartless, and psychopathic Kiyoomi was, he still cared for Atsumu in his own strange, twisted way.

There Atsumu sat on _his_ couch while being comforted by _him_ , was being hugged by _him_ and no one thought anything else of it. Sakusa Kiyoomi was just there to be the shoulder his _dear friend_ could rely on.

“I was at home helping my sister plan her wedding,” Sakusa would answer when the police came to question his whereabouts when Kita was last seen. 

“The last time I saw him was last month, if I remember correctly, he attended one of our games,”

“I don’t really have much of an opinion on him, to be honest, I thought he was a good volleyball player when we were in high school but that’s it,”

God, where they fucking stupid but he had to give it to the police, no one would really suspect anything was off from the way Sakusa raised an eyebrow or the deadpan way he’d react to anything. From all they knew, that was just how Kiyoomi normally was. He wasn’t fidgety, didn’t react negatively to any accusations, nor did he even show an ounce of guilt. He had mountains of planted testimonies, he planned all of this to a T, and he wasn’t just going to get caught that easily and he intended for it to stay that way.

Kiyoomi was disappointed that it took them almost 2 weeks to finally find Shinsuke’s body, he thought they were smarter than this. But he couldn’t complain much, as in those 14 days, he managed to spin the narrative he’d plotted out in his head, Atsumu was relying on him more and more, Atsumu didn’t speak to anyone else but him, the team, and his brother, and soon, he’ll realize he doesn’t need anyone else but Sakusa Kiyoomi.

“A group of fishermen found his body floating in the middle of the sea, he was badly decomposing but not enough that we couldn’t identify him,” and Sakusa was there to catch Atsumu when his legs gave out at the news, like he always will.

“I’m sorry but it looks like a suspected suicide,” the police dropped the bomb. They really thought they were right. The coroner said Kita was holding the knife with both his hands to use as much force as his body could to drive the kitchen knife through his throat and cut his spinal cord. They found his car a day after his disappearance though, and his phone was crushed near the car, all possible evidence and data they could’ve used were destroyed. 

And who was there when Atsumu had broken down in the middle of the police station? That’s right, Sakusa Kiyoomi. He’ll always be there to comfort the man he considered to be his king and reason for living. When Atsumu raises his head and asks if it was his fault, Kiyoomi will be there to shush him and assure him. When Atsumu cries all the tears he could, Kiyoomi will be there to hold his cheeks and bombard him with loving words and praises.

“What if—what if our date was the last push he needed to—”

“Shush, Miya, you never did anything wrong, you only loved him with you whole heart,” Sakusa internally gagged at his own words, “But we never know what someone's really going through, people can hide their pains and tribulations so easily with one well placed smile, it’s so hard to really know what was going through his head all these years,” 

Sakusa was glad his psychology degree at least helped him in something.

It took him a couple months but Atsumu finally accepted that Shinsuke Kita was gone, after days of locking himself in his room and skipping practice, after barely eating any of Osamu’s food, or even attending Shinsuke’s funeral. He, like everyone else, just chalked it all up to the possibility that he just never got over his parents’ deaths, the trauma might have followed him to adulthood...right?

“You got sick of staring at your walls?” Sakusa sat down beside Atsumu, taking a break from practice. The setter finally came back to the time after his break and of course, Sakusa was over the moon about it, his patience was getting thinner by the day, and he’d hate to hurt his little Atsumu.

“I missed annoying ya’,” The bleached blond joked light heartedly, Kiyoomi only humming as he took a swig of his water. Then there was a comfortable silence, the same silence that always followed the both of them.

“And I realized I haven’t thanked you yet,”

“For..?”

“For being there for me,”

“It’s nothing,” Sakusa shot him a barely there smile, holding back a smirk when Atsumu’s cheeks glowed red just ever so slightly. God, he really chose to devote his entire life to _this_ idiot?

“And I missed you, ya’ know?”

Sakusa scoffed, about to reply with a sarcastic joke but his words were stuck in his throat when he felt Atsumu press their lips together, rough hands grabbing the back of Kiyoomi’s head as softly as the reckless man could.

Checkmate.

Atsumu was finally in his hands, between his cages. There was no more possible ways he could run away, now. He just sealed his fate for the rest of his life. Kiyoomi wasn’t going to throw this only chance away, returning the kiss with as much fervor, he almost moaned at the feeling of Atsumu’s tongue effortlessly slipping past his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Atsumu broke the kiss but his hands were still on Kiyoomi. “I just—God, I just really appreciate you a lot and you’ve been there for me and maybe I’ve always loved you all this time and I never just realized it?” He was rambling. Again.

“I’ve been dreaming about you a lot and I just really, really missed hugging you and having you in my bed, even if there really were no strings attached,” 

Was it really just a dream or was it his groggy mind waking up in the middle of the night, catching sight of Kiyoomi's nightly visits through the windows?

“I love you too,” Kiyoomi snuggled closer to him, faux shyness coating every one of his words, smiling at the way Atsumu shuddered at his words.

This wasn’t love, Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn’t in love. He was devoted and he’d do everything in his power to have Atsumu Miya on his knees, praying for him and _only_ him.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @kacchanfilms and let's be friends!  
> please leave a comment! I always love reading your thoughts and reactions!


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